


My feet are on the ground (but I was never meant to be)

by Cyanidal



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: And honestly probably the worst thing I've ever written, Angst, I don't have many tags for this, It was just a vent fic and a stupid idea, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyanidal/pseuds/Cyanidal
Summary: When you yearn for something you can never reach, it’s a wonder you ever get far.Sometimes you need a hand to pull you back to the ground where you belong.
Kudos: 35





	My feet are on the ground (but I was never meant to be)

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work and I don't have much to say. It's a songfic and halfway a vent fic - it's truly just not the best I've written. But, it's not meant to be. Sometimes, you just need to spitball and throw some words out to clear your head. This is that.
> 
> I'll be back at it again soon folks.
> 
> Song: Icarus - Bastille  
> Note: Lyrics are edited a little - the chorus that plays before the line "High fall you'll ever grace" doesn't include the parts about Icarus flying toward an early grave or his life had just begun. I switched it around to fit the idea. That's all.

**_"Your hands protect the flames from the wild winds around you..."_ **   
  
His hands ran down the makeshift wings in front of him, dragging over the straps and clasps of worn leather. He should wait until he could fix them up properly, he knew that, but that never stopped him before. He slipped them on over his shoulders, wings falling snug against his back as he softly clicked the harness around his chest. Every survival instinct was screaming at him, reminding him that they were worn now and still had no enchantments. Reminding him that he should do that first, that the skies would wait for him as they’ve always done. That it was stupid to do this again, a sick pattern he followed daily. That there was no point to it all.   
  
He paid them no mind.   
  
Rockets in hand, he fired off a couple of rounds, feet leaving the ground behind as he jumped. There was always a feeling of nausea for a moment, feeling as though you are falling as the wings propel you forward. But it barely lasts. Kicking into the normal rhythm of his flying, he fires off a few more rockets. His momentum picks up, sending him far above the jungle trees below.   
  
This was where he belonged, above the ground, away from the chaos that was his life. His life was in the skies, in the clouds, where it was always peaceful. Where he was always free. It was his home, his safe place. Somewhere to go when everything else was just too much. Like now. So with a shaky sigh, he fires off more rockets, tilting slightly to project himself at a steeper incline.    
  
**_"Icarus is flying too close to the sun,"_ **   
  
When he breaks the cloudline it’s breathtaking in more ways than one. It’s a sight few others dare to see, choosing to fly well below them. He never cared much for the neverending green of the earth below. Here, in this moment, was worth it all. The sun itself a shining mass of yellows and oranges in the far off sky, fading into the blue around it. The blue of the atmosphere was not a singular color like the grass below, instead, it faded in and out to darker and lighter shades. A smooth mosaic of calm colors before him. Sometimes he wished he could be one with it all.   
  
So he flies higher.   
  
The clouds begin to get lower beneath him but he doesn’t care. This is where he belongs, away from all the things that bring him sorrow and pain. Here, there is none of that. The silence is deafening in a way that is calmer than anything he’s experienced. He wishes he could stay here forever, to simply float here amidst it all.    
  
**_"And Icarus’ life, it has only just begun."_ ** **_  
_ **   
The sun has begun to set now, blues on the skyline slowly fading to yellows and purples and oranges, the sky behind him surely fading to darker blues and the blacks of night. The night was a wonder too, the moon hung high in the sky as the stars twinkle around it. It’s just not the same looking up from the ground. It could never be the same.   
  
Maybe he could become a star.    
  
So he propels himself higher as the sun sets, the moon making itself present as the stars come out of hiding. He feels like he could touch it now, like it’s just out of reach. Maybe if he pushed more he could get there. Grab a star and keep it for himself. A reminder of the things he loves so dearly but can never have. Maybe.    
  
Things of beauty are always too far out of reach.   
  
**_"And this is how it feels to take a fall..."_ **   
  
He hears the snap first but he doesn’t react. It was going to happen one way or another, and in the moment he doesn’t care. Slowly but surely, he feels the pull of gravity. He feels himself falling back below, the fake wings flailing uselessly at his sides. He smiles through it all as he lets himself fall, watching the stars fade back from his vision. It was always the painful part, in so many ways than one.    
  
So he does nothing. There is no yelling, no panic of the incoming crash. Just a sad resignation of the things he could never have. The things he could never be a part of. Because he wasn’t a bird, he was never meant to be one. He was a man, a hermit, whose destiny was to keep their feet on the ground.    
  
A man cursed to chase a calling toward the skies, always with the same inevitable fate.   
  
**_"Icarus is flying towards an early grave."_ **   
  
So he closes his eyes as his back breaks through the clouds, the serenity of the moment long gone. The image was in his mind but that’s all it ever was. A memory, a sad reminder of the things he longs for most, for reasons he never understood. Reasons he never will.    
  
It’s a good thing the pain never lasts long.   
  
_ Grian fell from a high place _ _  
_ _  
_

* * *

  
**_"Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you’ll ever grace, it scares me half to death…"_ **   
  
Scar cringed as he saw the death message pop up on his communicator, letting out a small sigh. He never understood why Grian did it, watching with sad remorse as Grian would take off suddenly. It was random, and Scar could never pinpoint a reason why. Whenever he was asked, Grian would simply shrug it off. Only one time did he get the younger hermit to say anything worthwhile.   
  
“Some things,” He replied softly, “Just aren’t the same when you’re stuck on the ground. The sky - it’s just not the same. It never could be.”   
  
**_"Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing..."_ **   
  
It was cryptic, even for the prankster. Scar didn’t know how to help but watching Grian put himself through that kind of pain constantly to soothe whatever ache he had wasn’t working. So he pulled out the easel he swore he’d never touch again, it’s wood worn with age. It wouldn’t be the same, but maybe it’d bring some relief to his friend.   
  
It was a painting split in half. The top portion featured the sun and various shades of blues and yellows, a small v-shaped formation of birds seen above the clouds that floated in below of the sun. The bottom portion features the moon and the many stars of the night, various shades of navy and blacks among the inky canvas. The moon hung large and bright among the stars, twinkling around it like a happy backdrop to the true star of the show.   
  
It wasn’t perfect, but nothing ever was.    
  
**_"So take another breath."_ **   
  
He left it at the door to the hobbit hole, a small note the only indication it was for him. Scar briefly wondered if it was a stupid idea but, really, what was the harm in the end. So he left it for the hermit to find, hopefully soon.    
  
_ ‘To Grian: You can’t be among the skies, but maybe it can be with you.” _ _  
_ _  
_

* * *

  
**_"You put up your defenses when you leave,"_ ** **_  
_ **   
_ Grian fell from a high place _   
  
Scar felt his heart pang. It hadn’t worked, it hadn’t helped. For all he knew it had made it worse, what had he been thinking. What if-   
  
_ <Grian> Whoever left the random hole in the shopping district, that was entirely your fault _ _  
_ _ <Tango> uhh...oops? _ _  
_ _ <Tango> I’ll get your stuff _ _  
_ _  
_ **_"You leave because you’re certain of who you want to be."_ ** _  
_ _  
_ Scar blinked at his communicator before looking at the sky. No, he had been right, the sun had just set. It was the time that Grian should’ve been so high up, just as it always was.  But he wasn’t. He’d only fallen in a hole left by Tango - probably the very same one he’d complained to the redstoner about a few days prior.   
  


**_"You’re putting up your armor when you leave,"_ **   
  
That meant it was the first time in a long time Grian hadn’t followed his pattern. Hadn’t flown so high, too far, into the sky above. He was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, things would be better. So he climbed into bed peacefully for the first time in forever, unafraid of finding yet another death message and scattered items across the land they shared.    
  
Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.   
  


* * *

  
_ <Grian to GoodTimeWithScar> Thank you. _ _  
_ _ <Grian to GoodTimeWithScar> For everything. _ _  
_ __  
**_"And you leave because you’re certain of who you want to be..."_ **   



End file.
